


bowties

by dvldegg



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvldegg/pseuds/dvldegg
Summary: Newt needs help tying his bowtie. Crowley makes fun of Aziraphale. It's just a typical weekend.





	bowties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaintedVanilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/gifts).



> When my mind combines with Lettie's I feel...Inspired. Powerful, even. 
> 
> (thanks for sharing a bit of your brain power with me!)

The sun is just beginning to set as Anathema and Newt settle into the guest room of Aziraphale and Crowley's cottage. Aziraphale is just finishing his cup of tea and setting it in the sink when Newt shuffles in, abashedly.

"Aziraphale, d'you think you could help me with this?" he raises a limp, checkered bowtie with a sheepish smile. Crowley breathes a cloud of smoke from where he's seated, cross legged at the dining table. He's only half listening as he taps the cigarette over the ashtray.

Aziraphale shifts his weight uncomfortably, gaze darting quickly to Crowley before he forces a small chuckle. "Well, my boy, I'm afraid if you don't do it yourself, you'll never learn!"

Newt nods. "I know, I just can't get it to sit as straight as yours always does. I was hoping you could show me how you tie yours."

"Practice makes perfect, Mr. Pulsifer!" and there's a hint of strain in Aziraphale’s voice that only Crowley could pick up on.

And he does.

Aziraphale has been wearing bowties for the last two hundred years, _at least_. If there was any request Aziraphale would so firmly refuse, it surely would be a book loaning request. But then, there Aziraphale is, still trying to segue into a different topic, and Crowley realizes with great awe that Aziraphale never learned how to tie a bowtie at all.

Crowley uncrosses his legs, a bemused smile stretching across his lips as he twists his cigarette into the ashtray. "Angel, are you trying to tell Newt you can't tie a bowtie?"

Aziraphale stops mid sentence and, looking as if he'd been caught speaking to his books*, exclaims tightly, "No!"

He clears his throat and continues, more evenly. "No, dear, of course I know how, I just think Newton would benefit from a bit of trial and error, is all."

"Well then, why don't you tie it so we can head off to dinner? Our reservation is soon, you know." Crowley leans his elbow atop the table and rests his cheek in his palm, smiling impishly.

Newt glances between the couple with the discomfort of someone who had just asked a question that added ten minutes to the staff meeting. He mumbles, "I'll just see if Anathema can help..." and ducks out of the kitchen with haste.

When Anathema, despite his protests, leads Newt back into the room, they find Crowley leaning against the counter adjacent to Aziraphale, grinning and shaking his head. "I know you're stubborn, but if you could, you would have already done it by now."

"Just because you've known me for as long as you have, doesn't mean you know everything about me, _Anthony_."

Crowley barks out a laugh and pushes away from the counter to slink towards Aziraphale. He presses a chaste kiss to Aziraphale's lips as a hand reaches up to tug on one end of the bowtie, loosening it until he can pull it away from the angel's neck.

Dangling the fabric in front of Aziraphale he opens his mouth to chastise him, but Aziraphale snatches the tie away and sets it on the counter with a huff.

"Really, Crowley, now I don't have the time to tie it at all!"

"Because you can't."

"Because I don't have a mirror," Aziraphale retorts, triumphantly.

"There are mirrors in the Bentley, darling."

Anathema snickers while Newt nudges her side, aghast.

Aziraphale gapes for a moment before letting out an exasperated laugh and grabbing the tie to present to Crowley instead.

“If you’re so anxious to have me wear my bowtie, why don’t _you_ tie it, my _dear_.” There’s a challenge in the smile Aziraphale gives Crowley, the bite in his tone only slightly repressed for Newt’s sake (because Anathema is still grinning, rather entertained by the whole ordeal).

Much to Aziraphale’s dismay, Crowley returns his smile and, in a few swift motions, has the accessory tied beautifully. Crowley pulls a hand mirror out of his back pocket that definitely wasn’t there before and holds it open towards Aziraphale.

The corners of Aziraphale’s lips pull into a tight chagrin because (and he would never acknowledge it**) the bowtie looks more dapper than it ever has.

Aziraphale pins Crowley with an unimpressed glare and heads for the door, grumbling, “We’re late for dinner,” as Anathema and Crowley share a mischievous glance.

 

_*Newt had, on separate occasions, walked into the library to find Aziraphale stroking the spine of a book and cooing. But together, Aziraphale and Newt made the unspoken decision to pretend as if he hadn't._

_**He does acknowledge it, but only after he’s had Anathema teach him how to tie one for himself._


End file.
